


Do You Love the Colour of the Sky?

by Iximaz



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Implied/Referenced Sex, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Past Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), The Arcana (Visual Novel) Spoilers, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iximaz/pseuds/Iximaz
Summary: Though Adalyn and Asra officially met nine years ago, they've been catching glimpses of each other throughout their childhood. When they finally meet as young adults, Asra has no idea the emotional turmoil he's about to endure.A collection of vignettes in the Apprentice and Asra's lives and the events leading up to the resurrection.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra & Faust (The Arcana), Asra & Muriel (The Arcana), Asra/Julian Devorak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Do You Love the Colour of the Sky?

Asra first saw the magicians’ daughter from a distance. 

He’d slipped off to the bustling marketplace at dawn, leaving Muriel bundled up in his blanket as the older boy snored. Asra was able to dart between the legs of the market-goers, snatching up dropped coins where he spotted them and tucking them safely in his pocket. Those, he would save for a rainy day, but for now…

While the fruit vendor was distracted, Asra snatched a pair of apples and hid them under his poncho, scurrying away into the crowd before he could be caught. He nimbly scaled a drainpipe and climbed onto a nearby roof, where he sat at the edge, legs dangling, as he bit into the smaller of the two apples. Muriel could have the bigger one later.

Faust poked her head out from under his poncho. _Food?_ she asked, tasting the air.

“Food,” Asra agreed. “But only food for me, sorry. You’ll have to catch some mice later.”

_Mice…_ Faust flicked her tongue, considering the idea. _G_ _ood._

While Asra ate, he swung his legs, feet drumming against the wall as he surveyed the market below him. A flash of red among the sea of dark hair caught his eye, and he peered more closely at the little family: a bespeckled father with wild hair, an elegant looking mother with her hair pulled into a loose bun, and a girl with a splash of freckles across her nose who looked to be about Asra’s age, her own auburn hair pulled into pigtails that swung as she bounced impatiently in place. 

He recognised the parents; Horace and Fatima Gaumond, owners of Gaumond’s Emporium. It was quite famous in these parts as the best magic shop around for all sorts of reagents and components needed for spellcasting; Asra sometimes would peer longingly through the window when he passed, examining the wares on display, but the prices were far beyond what he could afford when every precious coin went towards buying food when they couldn’t manage to steal enough to eat.

As he watched, the girl tugged impatiently on her father’s sleeve, but Horace turned to say something to her and her face fell as she nodded. Horace turned back to the spice merchant, and the girl resumed bouncing in place; Azra peered down at her, intrigued when she ducked her head, hissing through her teeth before beginning to look aimlessly around.

Like she could feel his gaze on her, she suddenly looked up; Asra’s breath caught as their eyes locked. The girl’s eyes were the most piercing blue he’d ever seen, like the sky on a perfectly cloudless day.

She waved; unsure what else to do, Asra waved back.

And then Horace made his purchase, and the family was gone, disappearing into the crowd again.

But the memory of her eyes lingered, and Asra lay back on the roof, staring up at the sky and trying to recall the exact colour; the sky, however, was a pale, watery blue shot through with streaks of pink as the sun still made itself known.

Asra stayed on the roof, slowly nibbling on his apple to make it last, watching as the sky changed colours, becoming brighter and more saturated.

There. Just like that.

_Friend?_ Faust asked, her coils tightening slightly around Asra’s chest.

“I don’t think so, Faust,” Asra sighed. But maybe one day.

* * *

Asra returned to the hideout by the docks as the sun was setting, the lamplighters with their torches already at work. He moved aside the crate blocking the entrance to the half-crumbled building and squeezed inside, frowning; with how fast Muriel was growing, they would have to find someplace else to sleep soon.

His friend was already awake, setting up their shallow fire pit. He looked up when Asra flopped down next to him. “...Hey.”

“Hi,” Asra said, still feeling like he was walking on clouds. He unfolded the makeshift pouch he’d made out of his poncho, and the apple, along with a sweet bun, and several strips of smoked eel were tipped into Muriel’s lap; Faust slithered off in search of food of her own. “That’s all I was able to get today,” he said apologetically. “But I got another five coins! Maybe we could buy mhadjeb tomorrow; there was a stall offering five for a coin, how does that sound?”

Muriel had already started in on the eel; he chewed while he considered the question. “Sounds crowded,” he said at long last after he swallowed, and took another bite.

Asra sighed happily and called a spark to his fingertips, setting their fire pit alight. He stretched out beside it, warming his hands. “Well, I’ll go, then,” he said, and noticed the slight relaxation in Muriel’s shoulders. “I’d have to wake you up if you want to eat them fresh, though.”

Muriel shrugged. “Okay.”

If Asra was going to be back in the marketplace again tomorrow, maybe he could swing by Gaumond’s Emporium for a glimpse of the girl again. 

* * *

He’d meant to say hello. He really had. He’d even practiced it in his head, over and over: “Hi! I’m Asra, what’s your name?” It should have been easy.

While he bounced on the balls of his feet, working up the nerve to go inside, the girl burst out of the shop, accompanied by another girl with plaited dark hair. The two of them ran down the street, their laughter echoing off the walls. 

Asra had just stood there, tongue-tied, watching after them long past when they were out of sight. He sighed and trudged away, the coins in his pocket heavy. Maybe the mhadjeb would cheer him up; if nothing else, at least it would make Muriel happy.

* * *

Years passed.

Asra and Muriel never left each other’s sides, trying all sorts of tricks to earn money a little more honestly: picking through garbage piled in back alleys for valuables, skimming the canals for refuse, knife tricks for delighted onlookers, even a failed disastrous attempt to perform juggling tricks together on the street for coin. That one lasted all of five minutes before Muriel bolted to return to their home, and Asra had to swear to not drag him into that again.

Now, at least, they seemed to have struck gold—almost quite literally. Muriel discovered a talent for whittling, and after a lot of cajoling and pleading, agreed to carve masks for the upcoming masquerade ball the count was throwing in honour of his birthday. Asra spent some of their hard-earned money on brightly-coloured pigments and set about painting the masks, hoping against hope that this would be a good investment. 

Now, though, standing on the street with his precious collection of masks selling well—well enough that he’d already made back the money spent and then some—he allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That familiar flash of auburn caught his eye, and he turned to see her. The young woman with sky-blue eyes. They’d spotted each other many times among the crowd in the marketplace, and she would always give him a small wave that he would hesitantly return. Six years of these little interactions, and he still had no idea what her name might be.

_Girl!_ Faust said, her tongue tickling his ear, and Asra hastily booped her on the nose to shoo her back into the safety of his clothes.

The woman approached, a curiosity in those brilliant eyes and a smile on her face. “The mystery magician at long last,” she said, stopping to examine not his wares, but _him_ , and Asra felt his face heat up. “I swear, I’ve seen you around since we were kids, but I’ve never had the chance to say hello.”

“Hello,” Asra squeaked, and she beamed, showing off dimpled cheeks. At this distance, he could count every one of her freckles. Asra caught a glimpse of a red squirrel curled up in her hood, sound asleep; he’d often spotted it perched on her shoulder or head, and he’d wondered frequently if it might be a familiar or just a pet.

She held out a hand, and Asra hurried to return the handshake. “I’m Adalyn, and this little guy is Felix.”

“Adalyn,” Asra said, savouring the feel of her name on his tongue at long last. “Asra.”

“Nice to meet you at last, Asra! Did you make all these masks?” Adalyn asked, stooping to peer at one made to look like a peacock. 

“I have a friend—he carved them, I painted them,” Asra said, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“You’re both really talented,” Adalyn said. “How much are they?”

“Five gold each.” He still didn’t dare believe this was happening. 

Adalyn’s fingers twitched, and she ducked her head, hissing through her teeth quietly before biting down on a knuckle to stop it. Asra had wondered at the habit whenever he saw it, but didn’t dare ask now, when they’d only just met.

“I’ve still not decided what I’m going to attend as,” Adalyn said, still perusing the masks. “My parents have gone as tigers with the same old costumes every year, though.”

“You were a squirrel last year, weren’t you?” Asra blurted out, and Adalyn’s eyes widened a little in surprise before she laughed and nodded. 

“I was! Even borrowed some of Felix’s shed fur to make the mask,” she said, grinning. “I kind of ended up putting a costume off until last-minute for this year, though, so you’ve saved my butt.”

Asra chuckled as well. “Nothing but the finest here,” he said, spreading his arms.

Adalyn’s hand paused over a white and gold lioness mask, before she glanced up at Asra. “Could I pick it up?”

“Of course.”

Adalyn lifted the mask carefully, holding it like it was made of delicate porcelain rather than carved wood. She turned it this way and that, admiring the way the light gleamed off its painted surface. “I think I’ll take this one,” she said, reaching into one of her many belt pouches to produce a handful of coins. She dropped them into Asra’s waiting hand, and fastened the mask over her face. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Asra said before he could stop himself. His eyes widened and he hastily tried to backpedal. “I-I mean, it looks good on you! You made a good choice.”

Adalyn looked Asra over for a moment, and he could almost see the gears in her brain turning.

“Are you going to the masquerade?” she asked.

Asra’s mouth twisted unhappily; even now, on the cusp of adulthood, he still felt a thrill of terror whenever he spied Count Lucio riding through the city, barking orders at his guards and nearly running pedestrians over with his warhorse. The thought of attending a ball in honour of the man who had executed his parents made his stomach churn. “It’s not really my scene,” he said, not untruthfully. 

“Oh,” Adalyn said, undoing the ties at the back of her head. She glanced down at the mask, then up at Asra. “Well, don’t be a stranger, okay? You should come by the shop sometime!”

Asra glanced down at his coin pouch, growing steadily heavier throughout the day. “I’d love to.”

Adalyn turned to leave before Asra called, “Wait!”

“Hm?” she turned back, tilting her head.

“You called me the mystery magician,” Asra said. “How did you know I could…?”

“Perform magic?” Adalyn tapped a spot near her heart. “You can sense it in other people, with practice. I’m guessing you don’t have a whole lot of training, do you?”

Asra shook his head. Aside from stolen moments practicing what little he had learned from his parents… there wasn’t much left that he remembered.

“Well, definitely come by the shop, then,” Adalyn said, her smile widening. “I can show you a trick or two; my parents taught me everything they know.” She waved cheerfully and turned to head back up the street, a small skip to her stride. Asra watched her go, his heart feeling lighter than ever.

_Adalyn._

* * *

Asra became a frequent visitor to Gaumond’s Emporium after that; though it was rare for him to be able to afford anything, Adalyn often invited him over for dinner. Horace and Fatima were warm and welcoming, and always made enough food so there would be leftovers he could bring back for Muriel. 

It wasn’t that Muriel wasn’t invited to these dinners; the soft-spoken giant had turned down every invitation, much to Adalyn’s disappointment. Asra spoke of Muriel often and fondly, and though she wanted to meet his mysterious friend, Muriel certainly didn’t return the sentiment.

“What _is_ your issue with her, anyway?” Asra said hotly one night as Muriel tucked into the food Asra brought back to their little hut from one such dinner. “She’s nice, you’d like her.”

Muriel paused with a mutton roll halfway to his mouth before setting it back down with a scowl. “...Too loud,” he muttered, not meeting Asra’s gaze. “She’s not… good for you.”

Asra’s brow drew together. “Not _good_ for me?” he repeated incredulously. “Muriel, she’s been teaching me magic—I haven’t been able to learn since I was a child. And her family’s been feeding us both—and she’s not good for me?”

Muriel glanced away, but Asra knew that look. The big guy was about to start crying. Asra sighed and scooted over, leaning against Muriel; he felt Muriel stiffen briefly before gingerly relaxing against his side. 

Muriel mumbled something under his breath, but Asra was barely able to make out “Not good for us.”

Asra frowned, leaning back to look up at him. “Muriel—are you _jealous?_ ”

Muriel’s frown was etched in every line of his face. “I don’t…” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t want to lose you.”

Asra threw his arms around Muriel, and Muriel stiffened again at the sudden contact. “You’re _not_ going to lose me, silly,” Asra said. “You’ve been my best friend since we were kids. Just because I’ve got another friend doesn’t mean I’m going to forget you.”

“...Promise?”

“I promise.”

* * *

There was an accident.

Asra didn’t get the full story right away, but between Adalyn’s heaving, gasping sobs, she managed to tell him an experimental spell had gone wrong. Neither of her parents survived. She’d come home to find the bodies.

He held her as she bawled, curled up on her parents’ bed in the single room upstairs. 

“I d-don’t want to m-move up here,” Adalyn stuttered, hiding her face against the crook of Asra’s neck. “It still s-smells like them…”

Asra rubbed his hands up and down her back, wishing there was anything he could do to make it better. He still felt the wound from losing his own parents; though still not quite so raw after all the years, it was still painful.

“I’m so sorry, Adalyn,” he murmured, holding her tighter. “I’m here. I’m here…”

They drifted off together, Adalyn clinging to him like a drowning man holding onto driftwood in a storm.

When Asra woke the next morning, Adalyn was sitting at the table in the corner, nursing a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red and puffy, her auburn hair a disheveled mess, her clothes wrinkled and stained with tears, but she mustered up a watery smile when she saw Asra shoot up off the bed, face burning with embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” Adalyn said quietly, and Felix chattered from her shoulder, his bushy tail twitching. “For not leaving.”

_Stay!_ Faust agreed, slithering along the rafters overhead, hanging her upper body down for Adalyn to gently scritch.

Asra’s blush only deepened at that, but he nodded, raking his fingers through his curly hair in an attempt to tame it. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked, and when Adalyn shook her head, he went to the cabinets, beginning to pull them open. “Right—then I’m making you breakfast.”

* * *

Though Asra still considered ‘home’ to be the little ramshackle hut in the woods he and Muriel had appropriated for themselves, he found himself staying over with Adalyn more and more frequently, even though her crying episodes became fewer and farther between. It wasn’t until a few months later that he came by the shop to check on her that he found Adalyn in the middle of moving her things upstairs from her little closet under the stairs; she’d resisted the idea of moving into her parents’ bed because “That would mean accepting they’re gone.”

Maybe this meant she was finally starting to move on.

“Um,” Adalyn said, pausing with an armful of books threatening to spill to the floor; Asra rushed forward to catch the top several when they slid off. “Asra, I… I know you said you’ve got a place, but if you wanted to… move in… I-I mean, it would make keeping up with your lessons easier, and you'd be closer to the city, and...” She trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Asra’s eyes went wide, and he studied Adalyn; her eyes were still cloudy with grief, but he thought he could see a bit of that familiar sparkle returning. “Um… but there’s only one bed…” His cheeks heated up as he spoke.

Adalyn shrugged, resting her chin on top of the books to hold the stack together as she turned to carry them upstairs. “It’s not like we haven’t shared it plenty of times before,” she said, and Asra had to agree.

"So does this mean I should call you 'Master', now?" Asra said lightly, and Adalyn nearly tripped on the next step.

"Oh, gods, don't," she said, laughing. "That makes me feel positively ancient, and you _know_ I'm not that much older than you."

Asra was just glad to see her smiling again.

* * *

“Adalyn!” Asra burst into the shop, and Felix shot off the counter, chattering angrily at Asra before scampering up the stairs in a blur of red fur. Asra ran after the squirrel and nearly collided with Adalyn on the stairs; he grabbed Adalyn by the shoulders, breathing heavily.

“Asra? What happened?” Adalyn gripped his hands, her eyes flickering over Asra’s face; she bit her lip before pulling him into a hug.

Asra leaned his chin on her shoulder, his shoulders trembling. “They took Muriel,” he said, his voice breaking. “O-or I thought they did—took him to the Coliseum—”

Adalyn’s breath hitched. She knew as well as any Vesuvian how bloody the count’s idea of sport was. “We have to rescue him, then,” she said, and held out her hand for Felix to leap onto her arm, scampering up to sit on her shoulder.

“He—he doesn’t want to,” Asra said, tears welling up in his eyes. “He s-said—” He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Said it was his choice a-and… he never wanted to see me again…”

Adalyn slowly sat, pulling Asra down with her to curl against her side on the stairs. She ran her fingers through his fluffy white hair, staring at a point somewhere beyond his head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Asra, I’m so, so sorry…”

He couldn’t even tell her about the rest of it. The deal he made with Count Lucio—with the man who’d killed his parents. “ _Work for me, and I’ll make sure your little friend comes to no harm. Haha! Little friend? Get it?_ ”

It was the only thing he could do; one last thing for his oldest and dearest friend, even if Muriel no longer wanted him around. So he’d said yes, and felt a part of himself wither and die.

What he wouldn’t give to see that monster of a man burn.

* * *

Still more years passed; Asra threw himself into his studies, and he and Adalyn settled into a familiar routine. She got the Emporium fixed up and ran it with a firm hand, letting Asra help around the shop as she taught him what the different reagents were for. In the evenings, she tutored him—in her own haphazard way, jumping from one train of thought to another as a new and exciting lesson occurred to her. 

It was unconventional, but Asra thrived under her, and when he proudly showed her his tarot deck he’d painstakingly painted over many long nights while she slept, she kissed him.

Asra froze, the cards slipping from his grasp to flutter to the floor. Adalyn was a good two inches taller than him, and she stooped slightly to reach until he leaned up on tiptoes to return the kiss.

When they broke apart, they stared at each other; Asra’s face was burning, and a pale blotchy blush rapidly spread over Adalyn’s cheeks.

“Um—” Asra stooped to begin picking up his cards, and Adalyn hastily joined him on the floor, carefully gathering up his cards and turning them over in her hands. 

She smiled when she noticed what card was on the top. “The Fool, reversed,” she said, studying the delicate painting of the figure with its back turned to her, a small white dog at its heels. “Beware of acting rashly and without consideration for the consequences. This is my favourite card, you know?”

“I do,” Asra said softly. As Adalyn handed over the cards she’d gathered, his hands closed over hers. “Adalyn…”

Adalyn’s blush deepened. “I’m sorry, I—”

Asra kissed her again. Without pulling away, he set the tarot deck on the floor, then surged forward to push Adalyn back until he was lying on top of her and her fingers were tangled in his curly hair. 

“Wait,” Adalyn gasped after a blissful minute, and Asra drew back, biting his lip. But Adalyn got up and locked the door to the shop, flipping the sign in the window to ‘Closed’. Asra stood and set his deck on the counter as Adalyn grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s take this to our room,” she said breathlessly, and Asra grinned as she tugged him upstairs. 

* * *

In the aftermath, as they lay tangled together on the bed, Adalyn’s face was still red as Asra absentmindedly played with a lock of her hair, his gaze flickering as he studied her eyes.

“You know,” he blurted out, “the first time I saw you, your hair is what caught my attention? But it was your eyes that lingered. Like little pieces of the sky brought down to Earth.”

Adalyn’s blush deepened. “Yours are much prettier,” she said. “Lavender. Is that common, where you’re from?”

“I’m… not sure,” Asra said, his hand stilling. “I’m from Zadith, but my parents moved to Vesuvia when I was too little to remember. And then…”

Adalyn nodded, biting her lip. She ducked her head, ticcing for a moment. “They’d be proud of you,” she said. “The deck—I had no idea you were working on that. It's gorgeous.” She glanced up at Felix, who was asleep in the rafters, curled in Faust’s gentle coils like a nest. “Did you know about that, you little rascal?”

The squirrel only responded with a twitch of his tail.

“I swore him to secrecy,” Asra said, laughing softly. He tucked the strand of hair behind Adalyn’s ear, his face becoming serious again. “So… now that we’ve…” He gestured between them. “Does this change things?”

Adalyn was quiet for a moment before she propped herself up on her elbow, looking at him. “I don’t really see why it should? We’re still friends, right?”

Asra had a lifetime’s worth of experience hiding his emotions, and it came in handy once more as he felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

“Yes,” he said, matching her tone. “That’s a fair shout. I agree.”

  
  


Adalyn slept easily that night, the sound of her muttering in her sleep circling around in Asra’s brain before he swung his legs off the bed and went to get dressed. 

Maybe the count would have an assignment to take his mind off of everything.

* * *

Adalyn was right in that not much changed between them after that night, though Asra kept finding excuses to travel; though he still shared her bed whenever he returned to Vesuvia, such visits became fewer and farther between as he travelled, both in the real world and in the magical realms, trying to find a _purpose_. At times, it felt like all he had left was his promise to Muriel, and that kept him coming back whenever the count called on his services.

Until the day that Muriel—the so-called Scourge of the South—broke his chains and fled the arena in the middle of a match. 

Adalyn contacted him through the water, and Asra rushed home in an instant. Not to the Emporium, but to the hut in the woods, where he found Muriel, battered and bleeding and covered in scars, tending to an injured wolf.

He turned to Asra, eyes full of pain and a deeper suffering of the years. “Help me.”

So Asra did. 

After all, he’d promised.

* * *

Asra met him on one of his nightly wanders when he stopped by one of the seedier taverns for a pick-me-up. The self-proclaimed doctor who studied at the ‘school of life’.

They were both a little drunk, and more than a little lonely, so when Julian invited Asra back to his place, the magician accepted without a second thought.

* * *

Which made it all the more awkward when Adalyn said she was temporarily closing the shop now that she’d been assigned to Julian as his assistant. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Asra said desperately, taking her hand. 

“Why?” Adalyn said, pulling away. “You’re already working with him to find a cure, and I’ve got healing powers—no. No, forget it, we’ve had this discussion fifty times and it always ends the same. I’m. Not. Running.”

“You wouldn’t be running,” Asra said. He could tear his hair out from the frustration of trying to make her see sense. “You’d be here, where it’s—”

“Safe?” Adalyn laughed hoarsely. “Nowhere is safe. No _body_ is safe. But if I can help make a difference, then I will.” She snapped the fastenings on her bag shut and tugged the cloth mask over her mouth and nose. “I’ll see you at the palace.” 

Felix bounded off the counter to land on her shoulder, and she swept out the door without looking back.

* * *

It was the same argument again and again, only things changed between them with each fight. Asra stopped coming around the shop, crashing at Julian’s place when he didn’t just straight-up fall asleep in the palace library, frantically researching for a cure while Adalyn worked in the dungeon below and Julian raced back and forth between the two, the bags under his eyes growing heavier with each day. 

Asra was sure he would die from heart failure if the plague didn’t get him first.

And Adalyn.

He had nightmares about her eyes turning red, red like the skies over the Lazaret, poisoned by the thick plumes of smoke that were constantly billowing from the great chimneys. 

Julian would never leave, but maybe she would.

One last plea. 

The exchange grew heated, then escalated into shouting. And then tears. 

And now as Asra stood on the deck of the ship, the smoke disappearing into the distance, he heard Adalyn’s last words repeating in his mind.

“ _I’d rather die trying than run away like a coward!_ ”

His own response had been no less cruel.

" _Then maybe that's what you deserve!_ "

His eyes stung and he turned away from the railing to disappear belowdecks, the sky a brilliant crimson as the sun set.

* * *

When he returned, the shop was deserted and the Lazaret was still burning. 

* * *

Asra dug in the oily sands, sticky from the ashes scattered on the beach.

His fingers bled.

All for nothing.

* * *

He’d get her back.

* * *

When Adalyn’s eyes fluttered open, Asra thought for a moment that the familiar blue was _wrong_ —and then he realised he’d been waiting for her to wake up for so long, the sun had set and he was sitting in darkness. He flicked his fingers, lighting the candles around the little room above the Emporium.

“Adalyn?” Asra said gently, cradling her in his arms. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you’re back now, I’ve fixed it, I…” He trailed off when he realised she was looking at him with an expression that was slightly bewildered and mostly terrified. 

“Can you… remember anything that happened?”

Adalyn opened her mouth and let out a horrible garbled string of groans before pushing him away, struggling to sit up. Asra helped her do so, his heart beating rapidly in time with her own. Their own. 

“Adalyn?”

Did the spell go wrong? Had he brought her back a broken shell?

Adalyn tried to stand and immediately toppled over, Asra barely managing to catch her before she hit the floor. 

Adalyn was babbling like an infant now, her eyes wide and innocent and full of terror. Asra shushed her as he helped her back onto the bed, rubbing circles on her back.

“It’s okay,” Asra said, and Adalyn tilted her head, her eyes fixated on him.

“ _Oh…_ ” Adalyn said, drawing the word out. “ _Oh._ ”

“Okay?” Asra said. “Are you—” His voice broke. “Are you trying to say ‘okay’?”

“ _Oh._ ”

“I’m going to figure out what’s wrong with you,” Asra said, drawing his deck from his pocket and beginning to shuffle. 

Adalyn immediately grabbed for his hand, her eyes intense.

“What is it?” Asra asked, and Adalyn flipped over the first card.

She’d always had a knack for reading them, but this…

“The Fool, upright,” Asra said. He looked at Adalyn, who bit her lip and tapped insistently on the card. He looked down at it, and something flickered at the edge of his memory; he could have sworn he’d painted a figure accompanied by a dog on the clifftop, but nothing was there. Asra shook it off. “Uh—limitless potential. The way is uncertain, but you have all the tools. Make the leap; do not let insecurity bind you.”

Adalyn smiled and squeezed his hands; the effort seemed to exhaust her, because she slumped back against the pillow, her eyes closing.

Asra replaced the deck in his pocket and made her comfortable, then went to brew himself a cup of coffee.

_Friend?_ Faust asked, poking her head out from Asra’s sash to look mournfully at Adalyn’s sleeping form. 

Asra gave Faust a gentle scratch on her eyebrow ridges. “She’ll be okay,” he said, though even he could hear the doubt in his voice. “I just need to figure out what’s wrong with her. And then things can go back to normal. They _have_ to go back to normal.”

He brought the coffee to the small, well-scrubbed table along with a selection of books, beginning to thumb through them in a desperate bid to find answers.

The night wore on, and the coffee went cold, and slowly, dawn broke on a new day, revealing a beautifully clear blue sky.

**Author's Note:**

> So although Muriel is far and away my favourite of the bunch, I've been fascinated with the relationship between Asra and the Apprentice ever since finding out about their shared history together. This was the result.
> 
> P.S. Art of Adalyn, if anyone cares: https://iximaz.tumblr.com/post/635674693153800192/my-fan-apprentice-from-the-visual-novel-the


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